Harry Potter: Agents Of The Order
by Colohue
Summary: With Voldemort back it's time to pull together some oldnew recruits for a special mission.


From a messy, run down apartment in south London came the smell of burning.

Thick black smoke was pouring unsettled out of the open window as the inside of the apartment gently burnt in the evening sun. The furniture in the living room was crispy and well done, while the Pie in the oven was burnt black and like ash.

There was a loud crunching sound and the front door burst through, allowing the owner of the apartment to quickly be covered in thick, black smog as he rushed in towards his beloved Pie. It was ruined, but he couldn't help it, he wanted to save his masterpiece.

The Pie was ruined, it looked as thought it had been thrown down a chimney it was covered in that much soot. With a sigh he threw it from the baking tray out of the window, where it hit some young lady on the head. She was washing her hair for weeks.

He quickly opened all of the windows, allowing the smoke to flow out while he put out the fires quickly by waving a piece of wood at them. This was of course, because he was a wizard, and when the smoke cleared, he sat down on his lovely clean sofa, put his feet on his table, and realised he'd dropped his keys somewhere downstairs. He sword loudly.

It was just as he did, that a snowy white owl flew through one of his open windows. It dropped it's note, screeching as loudly as it could and flew away in a cloud of black smoke. The man watched it do this quite excitedly, it was the most exciting thing to have happened to him all day.

He took his time picking up the note, he knew what it was going to say, and he didn't like it.

This is what it said:

_Tom, you've been warned time and time again not to use magic, how many times do I have to tell you this, you'll only draw attention to yourself. If you're going to hide from You-Know-Who you'd better do it well, now stop it. _

_J.Awrella_

The man called Tom decided that the best thing to do was to make another pie. However, he didn't have one, so he settled with ripping up the note and that too went out the window. Janet Awrella was a complete idiot. For one thing, she had trouble telling one end of her wand from the other and for another, she couldn't spell his surname.

He started to miss the snowy white owl. It had entertained him for a few seconds. Looking for more entertainment, he turned on his television. On one channel, there was Tennis, on the next, there was Tennis. He missed the owl more. He wondered if an owl could play Tennis, realised it couldn't, then realised he was bored. He flicked to another channel, Tennis. This game actually looked interesting. Yes, definitely bored.

He looked out of the window for some sight of the snowy, but it was long gone. He changed to one of the windows in his bedroom, to which he'd attached a telescope to alleviate boredom. Still no sign of the owl, although there seemed to be a birds nest in the roof of the next building. He looked around some more, there was nothing really interesting. He sighed.

A few years ago, as a result of boredom, Tom had decided to enroll in the army. Unfortunately, this meant he had to give away his wand. What with being unable to perform magic he was quickly battered many many times. Afterwards he wasn't allowed to get himself another one, so he paid a friend to do it for him. However, the wand was, for lack of a better term, about as useful as his last pie.

Looking out into the distance, Tom saw another owl on it's way over. This one was a screech. Quickly, Tom parked himself back onto his sofa and waited, but the owl didn't live up to it's name, it dropped the letter quickly, and avoided the window completely. Tom swore again, but ripped open the note eagerly. He got a papercut, and read the letter with one of his thumbs stuck firmly between his lips.

This is what it said:

_Dear Mr Colohue, This is a message from your old friends at Hogwarts, I hope you are well these days and find yourself enjoying many fun hobbies. It's been a long time since we've met up, not since the days of the Potters and their son. But I feel the need for a good old-fashioned get together. Can you meet me and the rest of our old gang at the Three Boomsticks later tonight? Should be fun, we'll have lots of ale and have dares. What do you say? Contact me in the usual way for your answer._

_B.Dogge_

Tom cast around in his mind for the name on the parchment. He looked at the letter again, the Three Boomsticks? Bad speller maybe. Although, he knew a kid back at Hogwarts who had trouble with his r's and always called the Hogsmeade bar the Three Boomsticks. Great kid he was that Boris Dogge. But he hadn't seen old Boris since You-Know-Who was taken down, well there'd been no need for Dumbledore and the rest of the Order then.

The truth hit Tom like a ton of bricks, and he suddenly felt the need to slam his head into the nearest table. The curious urge that had been building inside him disappeared, and for some reason, he no longer wanted a pie. He had heard rumours of You-Know-Who's return, and had sat, waiting for a call from the Order, his old friends. He waited so long it almost drove him mad, but it was here, and he was ready.

He rushed into his bedroom, opened drawers and pulled them out, hidden at the back of his chest of draws was another thin piece of wood, wrapped in fine green cloth. He held it up, and spoke in a raspy tone.

"Tom Colohue," he said, "Order of Phoenix agent number 62. 12th regiment. Ravenclaw, bearer of a mahogany wand, 11 inches with a core of Dragon Heartstring. Powerful wand made for powerful spells. A killer you see Severus, I think he'd be perfect for this mission you're proposing."

He laughed bitterly.

"Thank you mister Lupin but I believe I am handling the decisions of who shall be on my team!"

Tom lowered his wand a little and pulled from his coat pocket a battered old Muggle phone. He dialled in a quick number and put it to his ear.

"Yeah it's me. Listen, we need to get 12th regiment together, can you meet me at the old 12th HQ? It's time for us to get back into action. I know, over three years. Hey, we need some new blood, see who else is interested. No, somebody young, somebody cute but not some airhead bimbo you know."

He hung up the phone and opened his closet. Inside were lots of shirts, lots of ties and lots of boring pants. He rifled through them and found what he was looking for. His old fighting gear. He hugged everything there, smelling the toil that went with him as he fought in them.

"Out of retirement and only twenty-seven, something wrong there. Ah well, a trip to the boomsticks would do my health good."


End file.
